


Damage

by DecemberRain101



Series: Unravel [2]
Category: Harlee Santos/Robert Stahl - Fandom, Shades of Blue (TV), Stahlee - Fandom
Genre: AU, Angry Stahl, Angst, Drama & Romance, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Explicit Language, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Italics are thoughts, Lies, Love/Hate, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, Not Canon Compliant, Original Character(s), Painplay, Panic, Past Rape/Non-con, Pining, Pissed off Harlee, Protectiveness, Resolved tension--eventually hee hee, Roughness, Secrets, Some Plot, Warm Fuzzies far far ahead (probably), au-ish, canon-divergent, some porn, some smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-12-11 13:24:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11715267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecemberRain101/pseuds/DecemberRain101
Summary: Damage is the alternative ending to Spiderweb, more meaningful and more explicit.To understand what happens here please read Spiderweb ch 1-32 then continue to ch 1 of Damage.  Please heed the new tags, ratings and warnings and I hope you enjoy this work as much as the first one.Much love to everyone who reads and supports <3<3<3,DecemberRain101P.S. Italics are thoughts.





	1. Damage

**A/N:** **Stahl's wife's name is Marta per canon.**

* * *

 

Next morning, he is not that ungrateful. He thanks everyone but omits thanking her.

That afternoon at his apartment the preparations are brief and, soon, the monotony of the train feels welcome. However, the sun...right now it's too bright as it pushes itself in through the window. The wind outside is restlessly bending the trees.  Both remind him of the first of too many times he went to see Harlee by the river. Back then, he didn't walk up to her right away but, instead, just stood there inhaling the scents of silt and sweet grass and stared at her, all the while feeling like stealing something that didn't belong to him. 

Stahl's eyes refocus on Justin who is currently squirming in his seat, pointing and saying something in that intelligent voice of his. Finally paying attention, Stahl realizes it's witty and laughs to the point of hurting his cheeks.

* * *

 

Harlee sits at her desk back at the precinct and nervously taps the wood with her nails. Tap, tap, tap... The sound starts out pleasant but soon dislodges a slew of bad thoughts. Both days and nights are hard for her, she should be able to manage but apparently the way things  were left is not going to work.

* * *

 

The cemetery is quiet save for the chirping of birds and raindrops hitting the leaves. The day is in luminous color, prismatic and bright, perfect for living. By the gravestone, he cuts a strong figure: hands in pockets, black suit, crisp white shirt. _So him..._ She approaches slowly, heels sinking into moist earth. A few steps behind him, she freezes as he jerks his head to the side to give her a curt nod. She stays back to allow him the time that he needs.

As the day is shut out of the back of black Lincoln they sit far apart. The tension hangs heavy between them. What was she going to tell him? She stares out the window until a large brick estate begins rolling past.  _So_   _t_ _hat's where he comes from..._  She doesn't know whether to laugh or cry, he wasn't kidding about surprises. Soon, the car rolls to a stop and he helps her out, his touch superficial, formal, far from the one he used to pat her down in front of her own house some time ago.

"I have to go see them, don't leave", he lets the words drop to the ground and walks on ahead.

"Why would I? I am already here", she counters inaudibly and rolls her eyes at his back.

She takes a step and her heel grates against something so hard that she has to look down. Cobblestones. _First mud, now this--this is ridiculous._  Well, at least next time she will know to bring sneaks...

When she finally reaches the entrance the noise and the sight hit her: the house is bursting with people, memorial service too loud. Flowers, huge heaps of flowers are everywhere making the place smell like a funeral parlor. That's only fitting. The crowd is big, she must 've been loved _,_  but Harlee did not know her. A self-guided tour, then. What else can she do?

The hours go by and the house grows quiet. The last car, old and slow, with its equally old and slow owners finally disappears around the bend. Stahl sighs and pulls the curtains closed, done for today. Then he remembers,  _n_ _ot quite..._

He makes his way through the house looking for her. A dumb part of him wishes to find her in one of the bedrooms but he pushes the thought away.  She is in the study. He hesitates at the door and watches her like a starved cat tracking a mouse. He knows she heard him come in but she continues her journey lightly trailing her fingers over everything. He shuts the door and locks it behind him.

"Not afraid to leave fingerprints, Harlee?"

She doesn't dignify that with a response but instead asks a question,

"The books, so many... Are they yours? " .

"Yes, and my mother's. Don't look so surprised".

"That you like books and had a mother?"

"Ouch, that almost hurts, you may want to try harder.  But first things first. What do you want?"

She is leaning against the bookcase, silent. He wonders briefly how long he can fuck her against it before the thing shatters.  Strong images show him not long, so, before he says anything idiotic, he goes with, 

"Allright, I will wait".

He takes off his tie and his jacket and flings them away recklessly.  Even so, they land on the desk in a nearly perfect pile. He grabs a newspaper from the couch and stretches himself out on the soft, well-worn leather. Outside, the wind begins to pick up and, again, rain is pelting the windows. He feels himself growing tired, so tired...

"Harlee, I'm falling asleep here".

No answer. _Well, he has had it_.  He throws the newspaper aside and in one fluid motion is up and in front of her and she has to back up. He leans in slowly as if for a kiss but only reaches around her to pluck something off the shelf. Still, no words leave her mouth. Now he is determined and, in truth, not that tired. He leans in a second time, moves her jaw to the side with his mouth and scoots his lips from her chin up to her ear. He senses she likes it and goes on, twining fingers through her bouncy hair. She is so invitingly close. A whisper drops from his throat,

"Stop playing with me. What do you need?". 

He very well knows what that is, but, still, she is silent and it infuriates him.  He puts his fingers under her chin and smooths his palm down her throat. She exhales, hard, and that sound-it cuts him deep and now he wants her to whimper. So he pulls her in.

"Do it again," he breathes and licks a narrow stripe along her collarbone. If she is playing with him, he is skilled in the same and will make her feel what he wants her to feel. She finally shifts and drops her hand down his torso, undoes his buckle and dips her hand in. When she touches his hair he has to close his eyes for a moment--it's been so long since he felt her hands there.  Her nail gently runs down the length of him and he is unexpectedly verbal, the escaping sound thick and poison-sweet.

She looks up at him and he is floating in warm honey.  _Harlee._.. She reaches her hand further down, cups his balls and massages them lightly.  He can barely breathe. _If you don't stop doing this and keep licking your lips I am two seconds away from fucking your mouth._   But, right now, it would make him a bigger asshole than he already is. So when she tries to sink to her knees, he does the only thing possible- stops her.

"If you are here to apologize, don't bother", his voice is terse, cold and flat. He removes her hand from himself and presses a small prickly object into it. The second earring.

"Here, now you have two to remember me by".

"Pardon?" A look of confusion crosses her face and his next words hit her like hale.

"I have my family back. Do you still want to stay, um? Marta won't mind- she has learned to obey me. Perhaps you would like to do the same? ".

The look on her face says it all. He realizes he just went there and used her fear against her. _Low, but that should make her leave now._  

Humiliation clings to her everywhere like sticky fly paper and her skin uncontrollably crawls.

"You look unwell, can I help?" His voice is mocking as, disgusted, she walks away.

* * *

He has been trying to stop grinding his teeth for an hour by the time Marta walks in. Ah, he knows just the remedy for all of this nonsense...

"Come here", he whispers hoarsely, want thick in his voice.

"Rob..."

He silences her with one hand on her mouth, the other under her skirt. She has missed him, she moans when he reaches her folds.  He yanks both her sweater and bra off, the skirt is torn from her next and, just like that, she is naked and he is still fully clothed. 

"I missed you", he lies as he pushes inside and all he can think of is how much he wants to fuck  _Her._

* * *

Two weeks go by filled with mindless fucking. The furniture, gardens, the cellar- nothing is off limits to him. He takes her so hard she wonders how she is not broken. Old uneasiness licks at the back of her knees as they rest on his shoulders. _He is so good, why does he have to be rough?_  Soon, the taste of his demons burns at the back of her throat and, just like before, she can barely deal. In the study, pinned over the couch, she fights and  _Let go of me!_ enters his thoughts. He feels like he was yanked out of slumber and suddenly something slides into place--these are not his thoughts, it's her voice.   _Jesus, what the hell is he doing?_  He lets go right away and she scrambles for her clothes. The last thing he hears is the click of the lock.


	2. OBEY

* * *

 

 

  **In the previous chapter,**  Harlee traveled to Stahl's home to apologize for nearly killing him. There, he rejected her in a very specific way.

 

Below are Harlee's thoughts on the way home from the mansion.

**Please read the warning** -this chapter contains  **rape, non-con.**

* * *

**OBEY**

Finally, he has done it, that bastard. A part of her has been wary of this ever since she told him about Miguel and what he had done to her. Back then Stahl looked taken aback but that lasted for half a minute. Then he explained he did not know this, it was not in her file.

_Her file_. As if she were a specimen to be studied, and used and discarded at will.

If he thought she got mad back then, he has another thought coming. And the word, that despicable word he used, it's like he knew it was one of the words she absolutely hated.

_Obey._  To this day, this word stands for more than Miguel's heavy fists. It stands for something that happened long before him, back when she was a teen and with Tom. Her mind flashes back to that night, the night of her and Tom's win...

* * *

His mother shows up. She had been alive all along, despite what he told them. Why Tom lied to them about her still remains in the dark, but that's besides the point. His mother looks regal and sounds icy- this makes her even more frightening. She came to return her "baby boy" home and she did not come does not want to leave. He has everything in this country-Harlee, his studies, a welcoming home. He says so, he wants to stay. That's when things get out of control. Mostly Harlee's.

"Listen here, puppy," the biggest man growls at Tom. "You go with us quietly-" he points at her, "I leave her alone. You give us problems-", he grabs her by the shoulder and shoves her down into the dirt. Her knees hit the ground and she involuntarily winces 'cause her legs are a bit banged up from the last practice, courtesy of Tom.

"Stop it", Tom says.

"Repeat that? " demands the man with a commanding voice.

"I said leave her alone."

The man smiles. "Good choice, puppy, now remember-", and he jabs a finger in Harlee's direction, " I can always come back if you disobey." They take Tom away and she is left alone on the ground, trying to even her breath. Some time passes...She hears footsteps and turns around still hoping it's Tom. It is not. Her breath speeds up again. The man's eyes bore into her with menace and, suddenly, she feels burning pain streak across her face. The man laughs and crouches down in front of her.

"Sweetheart, you didn't think I would leave you, did you? Oh, no- you and Tom are such a great pair and we made him obey, now is your turn". She scoots back."Oh, you don't want to?" He comes closer and reaches behind her head to pull her hair out of it's bun. When he succeeds, he winds the thick strands around his wrist once, twice...and grinds her face into below his belt. He is careless and her forehead almost catches the buckle. She tries to pull back but he backhands her across the mouth. Her lip splits. He does not care. She hears the zipper and squeezes her eyes shut right before her face touches lukewarm and twitchy skin and coarse hair scratches her lips. She wants to vomit.

"Open up," he says. She does not. He yanks her by the hair so hard that it feels like her scalp is separating from the bone. The tears push their way out from behind her eyes. He yanks her again,"I said open up". She does not. He lets go of her hair and squeezes her jaw with one hand, hard, and pushes into her lips with the other. When she cries out he forces two fingers inside and says, "Don't bite, open, open". He squeezes certain spots on her jaw and it's unbelievably painful. She hates herself for giving up.

"That's right, take it in..." His voice changes, becomes even more dark. The tears are flowing freely now as she tries to tune out the disgusting things he is saying. Everything gets mixed up-the man and his flesh in her mouth, Tom's mother, the win, Tom... She willingly loses all track of time and tries to shove down all senses. And they shut down, one by one...

She comes to alone. Her jaw, her entire body-everything hurts. Her dress is torn, her mouth tastes awful. She can't help but bend over and vomits until dry heaves hurt and her throat turns raw. Sobs overwhelm her and tears are coming and coming...By the time Miguel finds her, she just sits there staring into the empty space in front of her.

* * *

Harlee calms her breathing.  _Stahl, you bastard._  How much further her soul can fracture she does not know.

 


	3. Clarify

 

 

 

**CLARIFY:**

**1) Make something easier to understand**

**2) Melt butter to separate out the impurities**

**/Oxford American Dictionary and Thesaurus/**

* * *

He cannot sleep, might as well make it official—she is firmly embedded under his skin and no amount of lies can change this. There is no moving forward for him unless...unless he gets another chance to  _hold_  her,  _fuck_ her, find out what it really feels like to _be_   _with_  her. The fact that he still has a wife hardly matters because aforementioned wife can barely tolerate him and his fucks. God only knows what Marta is thinking. He feels plenty guilty so he offers her what he must-kindness, respect, except comfort, that- he cannot. Consequently, the only things he finds in their marital bed are ruined sleep and cookie crumbs from Justin.

Hell, he cannot go on like this. He wants her back. Not that he ever really had her but still... He wants to lay his sins at her feet and ask her to tame him.

His mind drags him back to the only night they have shared. How he wishes it started earlier, lasted longer. He breaks out in sweat just thinking about it. He needs to get up and get out, he can't possibly lay here, in bed, next to his wife and contemplate this. He gets up, grabs his pillow and walks out. He stops by the study, tosses the pillow onto the couch and makes his way to the shower.

Once in, he leans over and rolls his neck under the steaming hot water. He closes his eyes. He wishes he could hold her right now. One palm presses against the tiles and the other finds the base of his cock...

* * *

_His apartment is dark. A strip of light has fallen across the hallway. It's not a mistake. They both had a shitty day, and she knows where she is and who is here with her. An invitation_ _then? He makes the strip wide and walks in. She stands by the sink, in his t-shirt, wringing out her hair. The water goes mostly where it should but some of it runs down her elbows and drips everywhere. She lets go of her waves and they glimmer and move like a nest of shimmering snakes. She is a special kind_ _of Medusa- the one that turns him alive._

_He wants his lips in her hair, his hands touching her everywhere at once, especially under the t-shirt. He wonders if there is underwear and if yes, then what kind. His eyes roam all over her._

_She studies him, too. He is shirtless, in sweats, with beautiful pale skin, flat abdomen and hip ridges that undoubtedly lead to a delicious V somewhere under his waistband. She meets his gaze in the mirror and glances at the lights. He heeds her wish and flips the switch down slowly. Who would have thought she is so skittish?_

_His senses split into three: touch, smell and sound, all sharp as a needle. He hears the floor creak and a hand lands in his hair and a warm breath on his cheek. He is waiting. There is a noise of a garment being removed and then she is next to him, so close he feels her nipples on his skin. She smoothes her hands down his chest and he catches her wrists._

_"We both know what I want, Harlee, I haven't kept it a secret. But you? What do_ you _want, tell me."_

_She sighs and tries to pull her wrists out of his grip. He keeps them._

_"Think, Harlee. Is it so hard to admit that you may want someone like me, someone not quite right, not kind and not gentle? You've seen how I am, what I do and you still want this?"_

_She is silent._

_"So you won't tell me..."_

_"Perhaps in your dreams", she almost giggles._

_"Who is to say I am not dreaming right now?"_

_"Not very original, Robert"._

_"Careful, Harlee."_

_"Are you_ _threatening me?", a chuckle rings in her voice._

_"Yeah, with this," and he turns her around. "And this," and he covers her body with his. "And this," and he grabs her wrists in right hand and the left one lands on her hip. She didn't expect this. He is so quick when his hand dives down her thong and starts caressing her curls. She wants to whimper. He hears her, opens her folds and presses a finger along them. Her knees almost give out. He holds her up, he has been waiting for this. He moves his hand and she makes a startled noise and squeezes her thighs together almost involuntarily._

_"Shshhhh, it's ok. When was the last time someone held you like this?"_

_God, this man and his voice. She hesitates then relaxes a bit. He doesn't wait long and nudges a thigh into that small space and her room spins. She is wet on his pants and the air fills with the scent of her pining for him._

_"That's it, beautiful, sit, slow, let me in". Goosebumps erupt on her skin. He presses her into the counter and the pressure between her legs first becomes uncomfortable then sweet. She settles down. Her head drops and she opens her hips. She is throbbing against him. He gives her time to adjust. She makes an impatient noise and clenches her butt cheeks because now she is really burning for him. Smiling, he eases his thigh out, turns her and deposits her on the counter._

_He pulls off her thong without asking, spreads her knees and she hears him kneel on the ground. His cheek touches inside of her thigh. She stiffens and puts her hands out to stop him._

_"Harlee, please, listen..." His words sound sweet but they don't seem harmless. They dislodge something forgotten in her: **Listen**  to me,  **trust**  me, and she realizes with horror that she is not safe with him. She pushes him back._

_"Let go of me. Please." The catch in her voice sobers him. She's only made requests of him a few times and not once did she sound like this. He helps her stand on the floor and she shivers. She moves to leave but he pulls a warm dry towel off the heater, wraps her in it, scoops her up and brings her to his bed._

_"Can you go? Please?"._

_Fuck, he didn't expect this. He imagines she has no problems with others but with him...he feels sick._

* * *

He comes from the pain of his thoughts. He rinses, dries off, pulls on his pants and walks to the study. He sits and looks at the flames of the fireplace. If where his mind just took him is any indication of how things are going to be, and he has a feeling it is, he just bought himself a new set of problems. With that less than comforting thought he finally falls asleep.

 


	4. Problem 1--The Job

**A/N:**  Characters mentioned briefly: Henry **-** Stahl's stepfather, Sylvia **-** Stahl's therapist.

In the previous chapter, Stahl predicted more problems will land in his lap. He was right.

* * *

**Problem #1: THE JOB**

Stahl is leaning against his desk, arms folded, patience wearing thin. Henry, beads of sweat rolling off forehead, has been pacing in front of him for the last half an hour.

"Henry, you know as well as I do I haven't touched this in years."

"And? That's microscopic for a man of your talents. So what is it really? It can't be your job, I thought that went far enough south..."

Stahl raises an eyebrow. Henry backtracks a bit.

"I know you haven't been involved for years. I understand. But we need you right now, this family needs you. Your mother, she w..."

"Henry, don't. I will get back to you in a week".

* * *

Therapist's office.

"I am thinking of taking it on, Sylvia."

"Taking what?"

"That mess of a company".

"I see. Is that you or your guilt talking?"

"Probably both, but it's the right thing to do."

_The right thing..._ It's been a while since she heard him say that.

* * *

Time drips in weeks, months until it's no longer available. It's somewhat of a relief.

Stahl stands in front of a mirror fixing his bow tie, Henry's words still grate on his nerves...

"...investors. Most are conservative, want to see stability, family. You cannot go alone". And he won't.

* * *

The city is on the doorstep of autumn. On the streets, wind cuts to the bone but inside the air is warm. The place seems untroubled but he can feel the energy of the crowd swirling under his feet. In half an hour they will know if he had enough time to succeed. Blood thrums under his skin. He forgoes the champagne but reaches for caviar. The small spheres feel smooth on his tongue and he pops them against the roof of his mouth, one by one. The salty liquid tastes like the ocean and like some other things he has been missing... Slightly dazed he wanders the halls.

"Rob!" Marta catches up to him. "How are you feeling?"

The way he looks at her says it all.

"That good?" She sighs and reaches out to fix his hair. For some reason, he lets her.

Behind him, familiar voice grabs his attention. He turns and sees Tomas making his way through the crowd of ballgowns and chattering suits.

"Hey, Rob, how is it going? I thought you wouldn't be caught dead taking care of this?"

When Stahl doesn't smile Marta pointedly widens her eyes at Tom. He catches himself.

"Oh God, I am sorry, your mom..."

Stahl nods. Marta steps closer and winds an arm around his waist. He closes his eyes for a moment. What wouldn't he give for this night to end. There is a faint swishing sound and he looks up.  _God bloody damn it._

The first thing he sees are her eyes, they are like warm coals underneath very thick lashes. She blinks and he realizes that she looks even more beautiful than the last time he saw her. Eye contact is still a bitch so he lowers his gaze and it glides over her neck, the skin at her collarbone and suddenly drops all the way down- her dress is very very low cut. Before he starts contemplating what her skin tastes like he yanks his eyes upward and catches Harlee staring at Marta's rounded belly.  _Fuck._

Tomas just noticed and is smiling, too. "About time, you two!"

"Congratulations," Harlee gives Marta a brilliant smile.

"Thank you so much...", they don't get to hear the rest of what Marta is saying. Her voice is suddenly muffled by the scraping of hundreds of chairs and din of multiple voices rising up. A strong voice carries over the crowd:

" ..and I am thrilled to announce that as of half an hour ago we have secured the last investor! The board is meeting tonight to finalize..."

It's like an elephant just slid off his shoulders.

"Gentlemen," the secretary approaches smiling wide. She looks at both Stahl and Tomas. "Please come with me".

And the elephant climbs right back up.

 


	5. Problem #2--The Friend

**A/N: this is the last chapter that has a part from Spiderweb. All new stuff is coming up after this.**

**PROBLEM #2: THE FRIEND**

* * *

The crowd goes wild. Stahl and Tom say their goodbyes and follow the stern woman in tweed. Once out the door, Stahl takes her aside. All Tom can hear is "...Thank you...apologize...joining them later tonight." The woman's eyes widen as if she is about to protest but Stahl whispers something in her ear and her expression changes from surprise to a knowing smile. She nods and walks away. Tom approaches Stahl.

"Is there anyone you can't charm?"

A spark flickers in Stahl's eyes. "I think you know the answer to that."  _Probably no one. Or one._

They move another ten feet before Stahl pulls on his bowtie. The thing unravels and he drags the fabric away from his neck.

"I want to ask you something."

"So do I."

"Let's go then," and Stahl leads them through the huge gilded doors to the outside. The weather has turned drizzly but neither one cares. Stahl leans against a column and pulls out a cigarette, offers another to Tom. Tom shakes his head.

"Suit yourself."

"Always do," Tom says with a chuckle.

"Ok." Stahl lights up and inhales slowly. "Tell me something. We've known each other for what, 25 years, at least, right? You know very well I don't like surprises and unsolicited help but you went ahead and did this anyway. What the hell is at stake, Tom?"

The other man looks uneasy.

"Tom, come on, don't play with me." Stahl's voice acquires a slight irritated edge.

Tom sighs and finally opens his mouth. "It's Harlee."

Stahl laughs. "You've got to be kidding me. What can possibly be wrong in your paradise and what does it have to do with me?"

"A lot on both fronts."

Stahl's eyes narrow. "I am not following."

Tom looks away, takes a deep breath and turns back to Stahl. "Remember years ago I told you about a girl I left behind?"

"And?"

"Do you remember how and why?"

Stahl grimaces. "Yeah. Why do you bring that up?"

"Sometimes, Rob, I wonder how you ended up at FBI."

"What...," when realization strikes Stahl's breath goes in the wrong way and he has to cough to get the smoke out of his throat. "Jesus, Tom..."

"And that's not everything."

"There is more?"

"Unfortunately, yes, there is." Tom fills him in.

Stahl's frown deepens. Unwittingly, his fingers find the wrong end of the cigarette and close over it for far too long.  _Pain_ _makes things easier, doesn't it, Robert?_

"Rob?"

"Hmm?" He flicks the cigarette away and runs the hand through his hair. It has been absorbing moisture and feels wet.

"Are you fucking listening?"

Stahl lifts his eyes toward Tom. "Yeah. And why do I need to know this?"

" Because I need your help."

"Tom, I am not the right person to ask, believe me."

"And why is that?"

"She hasn't told you then? We have...history."

Tom's face turns red and his breath quickens but he pushes down his jealousy.

"How deep? How deep was that "history?""

Stahl's nostrils flare.

"I see. Then this makes you uniquely qualified."

* * *

In the meantime, inside:

Marta: Excuse me, Harlee?"

She turns around and recognizes Stahl's wife.  _This ought to be interesting._  "Yes?"

M: "May I have a word with you, please?"

The redhead looks almost harmless but there is a certain sharpness about her.

H: "Of course. Lead the way", she politely smiles.

They make their way down the stairs, walk a few turns and end up in a winter garden.

The stone bench is cool and uncomfortable through her dress. Marta does not seem to mind. She turns to Harlee.

"Do you love him?"

Harlee's eyebrows shoot up.

"Excuse me?"

"Robert. Do you love him?"

Harlee's mouth goes dry. She says nothing.

"Whether you do or not, I think he loves you. He has been saying your name in his sleep for months."

Harlee makes to get up but Marta stops her.

"Wait". Marta lays her hand on her belly and looks up.

"I thought you should know-this child-it's not his. Please go see him."

_Yeah, like hell she will._  Monday already looks to be plenty of fun.

* * *

Tom leaves. Stahl stays outside wishing the skies rained an ocean so he could wash out his brain. He was just made responsible for way more than he ever did to her _. Fan-fucking-tastic._ He pulls another cigarette out and sits down on the stairs, wet arse be damned.

By the time he notices her she is at the bottom of the stairs. He is not sure he can handle her turning around and looking at him _. Just as well..._ Then her needle of a heel grabs her dress and she slips but catches herself at the last moment. By the time he is up, she is gracefully disappearing into a cab. Suddenly, he is convinced he wants a backward glance but he doesn't get it.


	6. Prelude to the office

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To SleepyGirl--thank you so much for your support and comments, I truly appreciate them because they inspire and make me think. 

 

* * *

  **To all of my lovely readers: this is not beta-ed.**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**THE PRELUDE TO THE OFFICE**

**In the previous chapter,**  Tom explains why he invested in Stahl's company. The reasons are quite unorthodox and Stahl is trying to process the situation. At the same time, Marta Stahl tells Harlee that she thinks Stahl loves her. Our heroine is like "who gives a f...? _" Hmmm, how unfortunate it is for both_ _our characters to end up in the same building together...soon_ (writer rubbing hands evilly ;)

**A/N #1** : **Fair warning:** We are entering the more explicit territory here, things may get weird or squeek you out. This is my first attempt at writing something like this so please bear with me :).  **TRIGGERS:**  There will be issues of **consent** , **dubious morality** , **pain play**. This is not based on reality and not intended for the real world.  This is purely a work of fanfiction with characters doing and thinking whatever they please, right or wrong.  It is also fantasy and wish fulfillment with perhaps a bit of **id fic** thrown in. (Oh, and Stahl probably likes a bit of pain because he is so not a regular Joe in the bedroom. :)

**A/N #2:**  Stahl  **absolutely and clearly**  knows he would never do anything against Harlee's will. He believes if they ever do get to play any games in the bedroom and out of it, consent, rules and limits will be established beforehand.

**Tags:**  self-soothing, masturbation, blowjob, deepthroat, dirty talk, embarrassment/humiliation, imagining non-con/con, wishful thinking, a bit of role reversal, begging, faint references to D/s, critical inner voice, pain play

* * *

When he opens his eyes, his belly is warm and something pleasantly tugs at his groin. Bright autumn sun is warming his sheets and this world is just perfect. If only he could hold on to it for a few minutes longer.  If only he could turn back the clock to the time when the only things between them were their jobs and their relentless wanting...

Suddenly, the warmth of the sun feels scalding and he throws off the covers.  His boxers follow.  He stretches, hard, pulling and arching the whole length of him, smooth and solid.  Sighing when done, he bends one knee and slides a palm to his groin.  The hair there is crinkly and sparse, just a small island of blond corkscrews.  As Harlee once put, "Just enough to tickle the nose and not bother the mouth."   _Fuck._  He is not supposed to think like that, is he?  But he just cannot help it.  His balls ache and he cups them trying to soothe himself somewhat.  

Soothing does not come easy to him.  Pain is more of an ally and it beckons him somewhere deep, to the place where he doesn't invite anyone.  Anyone _worthy_ , that is.  

He tests the twin weights in his hand, tightens his hold and squeezes, slowly but roughly.  He goes further and twists them until the pain is so vivid it blinds him.  He wills himself to stay there, on that elegant edge of pain, until the tendrils of pleasure crawl up his body.  Only then he lets go and massages the tender flesh as if to apologize  for treating it roughly.

When his calm is regained, he licks his thumb and his fuck-you finger, slides them around his cock and strokes himself slowly.  After a few rounds, he releases his hold, drags his tongue up his palm and grasps himself firmly.  He really wants this right now, _needs_ to remember her slickness and softness.  

Her lips come to mind, and unlike his, they are soft and inviting.  He imagines them warming his cock as she kisses him, licks him and takes him into her mouth.  She is so gentle and so loving that, as she wraps her tongue around him, his hips acquire a slow, steady rhythm.  

_**Do you really think she will worship you, ever, like this?  She is a Queen and queens don't bow down.** _

_She may yet bow down to me..._

And the voice is proved wrong when Harlee swallows him to the hilt.  The motion massages him well and he groans in pleasure.  Sinking fingers into her cinnamon curls, he holds her right there.  She does not protest, it's like her favorite place in the world is on her knees, with him standing above her.  This is so amazing to him that he wants to offer her something, too, before he gets too  _close._  He releases her, softly, and she comes off with gentle wet pop. 

_Now, what would you like, darling?_

He helps her up and she whispers something into his ear.    

_Fancy me liking that, too, baby._

She faces away from him and, sighing, lays her cheek against cold concrete. He covers her body with his, deliberately, slowly, softly enough not to leave bruises, firmly enough not to allow her to leave. 

_**What an excellent trap you make, Robert.**  _

He inhales her to get away from that voice...

"Jesus, Stahl, would you do this already? or do I need to say 'please' ?"

Both his jaw and his hold tighten.

"First of all, _Harlee_ , that is not the name I prefer." _I've been waiting to hear the gentle one on your lips._ "Second, saying please is not a bad thing."

She bucks and makes an impatient noise. "Bastard."

"Wrong again. And, please, do continue your squirming-you are only making it sweeter for me."

That's when she stills. "Fine, Rob."

"What was that?" but he heard her just fine.

She cannot take any of this any longer.

"Rob, please, this is ridic..." and she almost meowles from finally sensing him between her legs. She lifts her butt and he pushes in, slowly, letting her feel  _everything_. The head of his cock nudges her entrance and...  they are going to die right there because either she is too tight or he is too big and he just. can't. get in. 

Hungry, he flips her around, plasters her hands to the wall and kisses her, gently, softly, just to show how much she really means to him. He kisses her forehead, eyelids, eyelashes, nose and cheeks, chin. Below the neck, along collarbone, then lower, punctuating her nipples. His palms glide down her ribs and he reaches down, to seek what both of them need. When there, he parts her just slightly and teases the softest of petals within... 

"Open up for me, baby. Please, let me in."

Gently, he slides a slick fingertip in, with no force and no menace, with just a feeling of skin. She grabs onto him as she melts at the knees and a whisper escapes her, and a sob mingled with  _need_  and  _please_. He leans back to study her face.

"Sweetness, what's wrong? Do you want me to stop?"

Muffled sigh into his chest: "No, believe me, I  _want_  this..."

Her eyes dive into his and she turns around and presses his hand, knuckles-first, to the wall. She lays her cheek against it and he threads the other arm underneath her. When he pushes her lower belly back into him, this time, he is let in.

Inside, she is like molten lava, honey-sweet and hell-bent on squeezing the life out of him. He likes it and as he strokes and pleasures her further, his elbows and knuckles abrade to bloody bits. He continues, wanting to fill every shadowy corner of her, _needing_ to be thorough and deep. When she cries out at the first round of quakes, he holds her tighter and fucks her through them until she almost stills. Only then he closes his eyes and lets his animal growl and spill, and spill. As his come flows into her she sighs and wriggles and moans... 

As he comes up to the surface, a question, a prayer, a wish form on his lips:

_Would you ever consider us, Harlee? or will this forever remain just a sweet dream?_

_**Poisonous, Robert. Only you would consider this sweet.**_  The voice in his head is accusatory. 

_**Look at what you have done--wished to plunder the love of your friend? Your best friend, Robert.  I've always known you were base but you just keep proving it, day after day. What is next? Will you grasp her, after he goes, for yourself?  Think about this, Robert, think.** _

Shit. He feels like complete and utter shit. His brain hurts and his body feels like a mound of rocks just fell on it.  But alas, he has to get up and face this "promising week."

 

 


	7. Descent

A/N:

**To SleepyGirl-this was the most troublesome chapter ever, very hard to write. I had at least 5-6 drafts of it and finally couldn't call it The Office :)**

* * *

**In the previous chapter, on Monday, Stahl woke up to get ready to go to Tom's office to get familiar with his friend's end of the company. His morning turned into distraction...**

**In this chapter, he is just ending that first day...**

He dives back into himself in the elevator. Leaning against the wall, he watches the flashing numbers. Too many numbers, too many faces, too much of everything. He can't wait to get out of here.

23, 22, 21...Jesus.

When the doors ding for the hundredth time, she walks in. He clears his throat before his lips stretch into a stupid smile. Her back is to him and both bear the silence.

It's broken at 5 when a gaggle of students file in. Must be  _bring entire class to work_  day and must be _from_ high school for where else does courtesy disappear into a black hole, hopefully to emerge by their mid-twenties? That's how Harlee ends up right in front of him, within a hair breadth from his body. If any more darlings squeeze in, she will be plastered against him.

They don't. Ground floor comes and everyone exits. She suddenly stops and walks back towards him. Her eyes are shooting daggers, no, spears, at him.

"Tell me, how did you manage?"

"Good evening to you, too, Harlee. Whatever do you mean?"

"You are never innocent, Robert."

_She said his name. Lovely._

"Alright, as you wish- I conceived this extremely evil and complicated plan in an effort... Oh, I don't know, would you tell me?"

She suddenly realizes that no matter what she says, she already admitted she has been thinking about him.

* * *

A week later, he is alone in his office. The unmistakable click of her heels brings her in. He takes a breath and leans back in his chair.

"Did you know?". Her face is drained of blood and dark circles rest above her cheekbones.

He rubs his chin, silent.

"Why didn't you tell me he was sick?"

"Let's see. Perhaps, it wasn't my place, Harlee?"

"But it's  _your_   _place_  to sit here and manage...whatever this is?" She paints the room with invisible strokes.

"He asked me to. And Harlee, if you are worried, don't be.  What happened between us-- it's water under the bridge." 

_For you, that may be.  And she walks out._

 

 


	8. Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> This one is tiny but pivotal. I apologize for brevity.

 

Days turn into weeks. Tom gets angular, thin, and it's only a matter of waiting.

* * *

 

Harlee sits by the mirror, staring and not seeing, stray button returned to black dress on her lap.

Cristina walks in, quietly folds her arms around her mother and presses her cheek against Harley's warm cheek. 

"Mom, I'm sorry. It's time. "

"I know, baby."   _Deep breath._  

Softly, the door closes.  Harlee gathers her now-long hair into a bun and picks up a pin. She swears when it lances her finger. 

* * *

The service over, she lifts her eyes from the ground and stares at him across the fresh soil. He holds her damp gaze for as long as she needs him to and then it's all over. 

* * *

The office on Sunday is quiet and gray.  He is walking in circles, unable to break the monotony.  Another week passes. The phone rings. Christina is frantic.

"It's mom. Can you come? Please?". Sobs on the line. "I don't know what to do. Woz is asking..."

The gravelly voice interrupts.

"Stahl, get your ass over here."

* * *

Woz pours two glasses of scotch and ends up drinking both all the while looking at Stahl as if considering dinner.  Changing his mind, he hands Stahl a crisp envelope. Inside, the paper is thick, gold trim glinting in the fading sun. 

"Read."

 


	9. Shock

**A/N:**   **another short chapter.  The plot thickens.  Hopefully, you like.**  

The paper is crisp, silver edging excellent papercut tool.

_'Harlee dear,_

_I will be brief. My son was quite generous to you and I simply must do the same. Let me be your guide to the answers you undoubtedly seek._

_First, the money. It does not sit well with you, does it? Neither the sum nor the reason. Ah, I forget-Tom never told you._

_Do you remember the night of your win? How exciting it was? How young and talented both of you were! But, sadly, blind as day-old puppies. Did you really think he would have stayed with you?  that he loved you back? What nonsense. He just needed a gentle reminder to return to his rightful place. Except, I've never been gentle nor kind._

_You grow uneasy, Detective.  But aren't you brave?  Then go on._

_Do you ever wonder about your dreams, or, more aptly put, nightmares? Visions so vivid you wake up drenched in sweat, with a taste of another man's come on your tongue? It all started that night, didn't it?_ _Only one night and how your life changed!_

_Do you remember yourself, in the dirt, with multiple men? I watched, I remember. Were you able to keep all that beautiful hair of yours? Did Miguel brush it for you later that night? Money made him so loyal._

_Do you know what brought me the most satisfaction? You will not want to believe it but it's true.  My baby boy, doing everything for a chance to return to me. You see, our relationship was ...unique and he knew when to obey. Who do you think was_ _behind you, hurting you, making you scream? Like I said, he'd had training._

_One more thing, Harlee.  Did you know Miguel was sterile?  I didn't think so.  Now that you do, take the money and make certain my granddaughter has **everything.**  _

_That is all, and you need a drink._ _Don't be shy now--I sent the best from my_ c _ellar._

_With everlasting concern,_

_Mrs. A."_

Stahl crushes the paper, the piece of garbage it is. "Cristina--did she see this?"

"No."

Stahl's features relax a bit and he stares off into the distance.   Whatever Woz sees in his face sets his stomach on fire. 

" You knew?  FBI, why weren't you checking her mail?  Is it because she is no longer useful?"

"If that's your opinion, why did you call me?"

 

* * *

 


	10. FEEL

**A/N: None of this is intended as any sort of therapeutic advice. In real life events would likely unfold differently.**

Woz sighs. "She worries me. Barely eats, doesn't talk." He sighs again and cards fingers through his grizzly hair. "I have to return to the

precinct."

"So the logical choice was to call  _me_?"

"Yes,  _you_ , guardian angel. Time to live up to your name."

Stahl huffs through the nose.

"Take her home, keep an eye, take good care. Cristina and Cathy will go with you. The rest-it's better if they don't know."

Stahl leans back in the chair and closes his eyes.  _Did Woz get hit in the head or something?_

Gravelly voice from the doorway. " And, FBI? Don't fuck up."

**NIGHTMARE**

**Stahl's mansion.**

The first time she has a nightmare Woz's wife and Cristina won't let him in.  _They got it,_  they say,  _it's alright_ ,  _she will make it_.  _Which part of this is_   _fucking alright?_ he wants to scream back at them. Instead, he swallows his words. Hard.

He sleeps in the study. It's too loud upstairs...

* * *

Time drags on. She is like a ghost, just a shell of herself, with pale skin and hair that has gotten too long and eyes that have gotten too empty.

Woz calls every day. She is doing better, she tells him. Still a convincing liar.

* * *

The weather grows cold. She's graduated from tea to warm soup and is mastering dragging noodles around the bowl.

* * *

Kitchen. She pats Cristina's head.

"Baby, I love you so much."

"Mom, I want to stay."

"Honey, you have missed an entire semester."

"Mom..."

"I know, Baby, you don't want to leave me. But I will be alright. And Cathy and ...

"Robert?"

" Yes. They are staying."

_Make sure she has everything._ Harlee inwardly shudders.

In a couple of weeks she manages to send Cathy away. Now it's just he and Harlee.

* * *

The first time he falls asleep in his bed, he is woken up by her crying. At least it is not screaming. He sits up and hesitates briefly trying to remember what's wrong. The next minute he is at her threshold. Blue darkness is deep but there's moon outside. and her outline rests against the white of the pillows. Her back is to him. He wants to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. She, on the other hand, volunteers.

"Get out."

He is a fool to expect anything different.

**FIRE**

That evening he is reading in the kitchen. He yawns and rests his chin on his folded forearms. He thinks of the summer, the gravel, the marina, the smell of Woz's cigarets. Something faintly acrid and unfamiliar accosts his nose. It smells strange, like burnt…something.  _The fireplace._

When he enters the study, she is sitting crosslegged in front of the fire, staring into the flames. She is tossing in some papers. And hesitates to pull out her hand. She hisses and he is beside her, jerking out her hand. Flames lick at his in the process. Unease squeezes his neck. Only then does he notice her hair. A lot of it. On the carpet.

"Harlee..."

"I can't stand it."

"Did it make you feel better?"

"Yes."

**FRAGILE**

It doesn't take long for him to be reminded that she has a talent. Two days later, something crashes upstairs. Goddamn flowers...Again. He almost doesn't want to go up but takes a deep breath instead. Firmly, he climbs up the stairs. Her room-broken glass is strewn about. She is on the floor on her knees, rolling shards between fingertips. The glass cuts.  _That must sting like a mother..._

"Harlee..."

"Screw you."

_Well, that's nice._  He pulls her up and flicks the shards off her palms. He does the same to her knees and then picks her up. He deposits her on the bed. In his room.

"Sit and don't move". She obliges.

He comes back with moist cloth, a towel, and ointment. She watches him as he treats her cuts. She does not flinch, even slightly. It's like she doesn't feel anything. God. He closes the door shutting them in.

"You are sleeping here tonight." He tosses a pillow and a blanket onto the floor. She moves to get up.

"That is for me. And, Harlee, the door creaks pretty loud."

**COMMITMENT**

When he delivers the doctor, she refuses to see him. With all due respect, she is not at the point of commitment, she informs them and bangs the door shut. He senses a spark of her old fire. The doctor tells him angry Harlee is better than numb. But, if there is one more time...

"You will take a trip to the hospital."

"it won't happen again."

"Still, this is the plan. However, try doing something good for yourself. How is your daughter doing in college?"

"She is happy."

"And you need a break. Go see her, it will be good for both of you."  _As long as you are safe._

**MIDNIGHT**

She leaves. She is back the same day. At 2 o'clock in the morning. She carries the scent of another. Something muddy squeezes his chest. He faces the wall.

"Go to bed, Harlee."

Thin, hoarse voice. "I just needed to feel something. Anything."

"And Nava is it?"

"It's easy with him."

His steps echo the way to the study. A lock clicks.  _Didn't he promise himself not to feel anything?_

It goes on for another three nights. He is this close to saying something.

**SYLVIA**

"Sylvia, I don't know what to do."

"You know you have choices. You just don't want to make one."

* * *

**STAIN**

His study is dark. He is at his desk, a circle of light touching him softly. She walks in.

"Did I make you mad?"

_No, Harlee, waiting for you is my pleasure._ A pen suddenly breaks in his hand, ink dripping on paper _._ He stands up but keeps the desk in between them. A wall. A two-way protection.

His words are awfully quiet.

"Me, mad? You have quite an imagination, Harlee. Do you think I am that pathetic, to carry the torch for you after you've been with my best friend? When his body isn't yet cold in his grave? I would be offended but...it's all true." His voice grows more firm but somehow still soft. He flips the light on. The shadows are harsh on his face. His throat is reddening, slowly.

"Yes, I am that asshole, dirt for telling you this." He smirks. "Oh, please, you need to hear this." He plunges in. "I still wish... _dont you dare interrupt me_..to hold you, to fuck you, to take anything you would give me? How disgusting is that? I still need... Just go, Harlee. Walk away since I can't. _"_

Something sickening, startling kicks in her chest.  _H_ _onesty?_   _to his detriment?_  How strange... _Her_ hands start to shake. She pushes the feeling down, down. To be sucked into that, that vileness again? Hell... Yes, even that far apart her skin turns on fire. doesnt he know he just buried himself?

Except, she dreams of his body at night, warm and safe. And she is afraid. She remembers his hands on her skin, his long fingers, those pale thin lips that somehow could be so gentle, his breath, his caresses, the unabashed strength of his desire that she allowed to touch her back then. . She is pulled to give up the fighting and dissolve in him... She shudders again.


End file.
